The Focus, Volume Vlll Number 1, March 1918
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Longwood University Digital Commons @ Longwood University Student Publications Library, Special Collections, and Archives 3-1918 The oF cus, Volume Vlll Number 1, March 1918 Longwood University Follow this and additional works at: http://digitalcommons.longwood.edu/special_studentpubs Recommended Citation Longwood University, "The ocF us, Volume Vlll Number 1, March 1918" (1918). Student Publications. 91. http://digitalcommons.longwood.edu/special_studentpubs/91 This Book is brought to you for free and open access by the Library, Special Collections, and Archives at Digital Commons @ Longwood University. It has been accepted for inclusion in Student Publications by an authorized administrator of Digital Commons @ Longwood University. For more information, please contact [email protected]. state: NORMAL SCHOOL FARMVLLE.VA. PlE.Qx&\nger MARCH, 1918 -THE- J, 81.831. Digitized by tine Internet Arcinive in 2010 with funding from Lyrasis IVIembers and Sloan Foundation http://www.archive.org/details/focusmar191881stat Shannon Morton Editor-in-Chief Nellie Layne Assistant Editor-in-Chief Marion Moontaw Literary Editor Katharine Timberlake Assistant Literary Editor Myrtle Reveley Business Manager EmmaHunt 1^/ Assistant Business Manager Mary Ferguson 2nd Assistant Business Manager Ava Marshall Exchange Editor Elizabeth Campbell Assistant Exchange Editor Louise Thacker News Editor Grace Stevens Assistant News Editor Thelma Blanton ('13) Alumnae Editor Gertrude Welker ('15) Assistant Alumnae Editor WMt of (HmttntB LITERARY DEPARTMENT: Harmony (Poem) A. O. M.. 1 A Profitable Mishap Harriette C. Purdy. ... 2 Joan of Arc Grace Stevens .... 12 "Holy Night, Peaceful Night" Anna Penny. ... 15 Her Dream (Poemj Mary Reynolds .... 19 The Soliloquy of a Clock Flossie Nairne. ... 20 EDITORIAL: A New Year S. M. 22 "Think on These Things" N.L 23 HERE AND THERE 25 HIT OR MISS 27 EXCHANGES 28 — — The Focus Vol. VIII FARMVILLE, VA., march, 1918 NO. 1 HEN the glowing sun sinks low in the west, And the evening shadows begin to fall, I love to sit apart, alone, ® call And listen in stillness to Nature's The cricket's chirp, the spider's song. The tall dark mountains all along; The brilliant, flitting fire-fly. The golden clouds in the western sky; And up from the meadow, deep and still. The cry of the lonesome whipporwill; The brooklet's tinkle and bubbly rill. The hoot of the owl on yonder hill; The whispering motion of the trees Caressed by the gentle evening breeze; I feel the dew begin to fall, And breathe the sweetness of it all. I, too, of Nature am a part. Close to the throbbing of her heart While all around from tree and vine Is held a Presence all divine. —A. 0. M, THE FOCUS A Prnfttabk MxB^np ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS IN GOLD! Do You Want It? For the best article on 'The Most Unusual Experience of My Life" we will give the generous sum stated above. Articles must be genuine accounts of experiences which have taken place in your own life. For further rules, see page 17 of this magazine. All contributions must be in by February 1, 1918. THE AMERICAN JOURNAL 456 N. Sixty-third Street New York City With a sigh, Jerry laid aside the magazine that he had been reading. He could not, however, so easily put aside the thought of the startling announcement which he had just seen. A thousand dollars! Did he want it? What a silly question! In all the twenty- five years of his life, he had never wanted anything as much as he now wanted money—and plenty of it. The question which was of more importance to him was, how could he get it? He could recall no especially unusual experiences connected with his life. In fact it seemed to him that he had spent a very prosaic, humdrum existence. The possession of a sum as large as the one offered by the Journal, however, would mean the realization of his dream of taking a course in journalism, and Jerry could imagine no greater joy than this. But how could he write a prize- winning account of an experience that he had never had? Suddenly, he had an inspiration. He would make THE FOCUS 3 the experience to order, if necessary, and then he would make the story! It was a cold, dark night, and the swiftly falling rain changed the snow that covered the ground to ice, A large automobile spun into view around the corner of Main street, skidded, and turned turtle. A few minutes later, an ambulance surgeon and his assistant were gently lifting from the pavement the unconscious figure of a young man whose clothing was covered with blood. When they had safely deposited their burden in the ambulance and the machine had glided off as rapidly as the slippery streets permitted, the doctor's assistant drew from his pocket a flat leather wallet and handed it to the doctor. "I found this on the ground by him," he explained. "Perhaps it bears some mark of identification." Jerry Hunt's first sensations on regaining conscious- ness were far from pleasant. His head felt as if it were spinning around loose in the air, one eye throbbed painfully under a tight bandage which encircled his head, and his whole body ached miserably. More than that, he found, to his surprise, that he could lift neither hand nor foot, and that they seemed weighted down as if with lead. In fact, the only part of his body which seemed to be in its normal condition was his left eye, which was fortunately not included in the bandage which completely covered the rest of his head. Even this faithful member, however, was not of much use to him now, on account of the darkness of the room. As he blinked in an effort to get his eye accustomed to the dimness, he saw for the first time a white- clothed, white-capped figure which gradually became recognizable as a trained nurse. She had been bend- ing over the bed to arrange the cover, and now she moved softly nearer to him and asked him how he ; 4 THE FOCUS felt. Jerry wasn't in a mood for conversation, so he merely grunted out, "Bum!" (the shortest word he could think of to express his feelings), and groaned. The nurse seemed to be much relieved by this sign of life on his part, and said quite cheerfully, "Oh, you'll soon be feeling all right, Mr. Featherwaite you're ever so much better already." "Much better now, am I?" thought Jerry disgusted- ly. "Well, then, I must have been dead up to this time!" But what was it she had called him? "Feath- erwaite!" He could not resist a smile at the thought of the physique which had won for him the admiration of all the boys at college, several years before, and had helped to make him the champion football star of the team. No doubt, she was calling him by this absurd name as a joke, thinking to cheer him up. At this point in his reflections, he once more suc- cumbed to the influence of the medicine that had been given him to deaden the pain, and settled into a sort of stupor. Several hours later, Jerry awoke with sharp twinges of pain shooting through his head, and the same general feeling of being murdered by slow torture—only, this time it was worse than ever. On the table at the right of the bed were roses. On the table at the left of the bed were roses. The bureau bloomed with them, the window ledge blos- somed with them. They seemed to fill the whole room, and Jerry felt quite suffocated by their faint perfume. — "What in the mischief " he began dazedly. "I'm glad to see you're feeling so much better, Mr. Featherwaite," interrupted the nurse brightly, without even looking at him, and crossed over to the table by his bedside. Jerry decided that she was totally heartless, and wondered if she would continue to be cheerful if he were to keel over and die on the spot. This idea gave him a feeling of such self-com- miserating satisfaction that he almost wished he could carry it out. THE FOCUS 5 "These flowers," said the cheerful one, pointing to the largest cluster by the bed, "were sfent to you by Mrs. Featherwaite : 'For Algernon, dear, with a heart full of love from his little wife'—that's what the card ^ays." "Those''—pointing to the bunch on the other table —'*are from your Aunt Cora. She sends her love and sympathy." "My wife! My auntP' thought Jerry weakly. "Suffering cats! this is the first /'ve heard of 'em! Wonder what she'll be springing on me next?" The nurse did not leave him long in suspense. "The big red roses in the window," she continued placidly, "are from your sister Hortense, and the others were sent by your Cousin Matilda." By this time, Jerry was feeling quite dizzy. "Pardon an idle curiosity," he murmured ironically, "but who under the shining sun, pray, may / be?" "Surely, Mr. Featherwaite, you're joking!" exclaim- ed the nurse, in surprise. "But don't worry about that now, if you can't remember clearly yet. You'll be feeling better soon." "Featherwaite!" snorted Jerry indignantly. "I'm blest if Fm a featherweight!" Visions of the flowers and of his unheard-of family followed Jerry into his sleep that jiight. He had been wondering drowsily, as he began tO doze off, if, when the number of flowers multiplied to such an extent that some would have to be put on the bed, the nurse would remember to leave his nose uncovered sufficiently for him to breathe.